The Line Dance

Driving with Brandon is an interesting thing. As with any alpha male, he likes to drive fast. He likes to go places without directions. He likes to weave in traffic. He likes to make lefts on right turns only. He has little patience for people who don’t know what they’re doing. Who drive slow in the fast lane. Who stop when they should yield.

When we are together, I do not drive. But you should know, I am not a good passenger.

I am the passenger who monitors the speedometer. Who keeps one hand on the side handle. Who digs her nails into the dash board. Who gasps when the car 50 paces ahead of us breaks. Who points out whenever someone switches lanes within a 20 foot radius of the car. Who pumps the invisible brake when we aren’t slowing fast enough.

And it drives Brandon up the wall.

Just to clear things up, I’m not the better driver. I rammed into my pastor’s car 4 days after getting my permit. I backed into a truck two weeks later. I got two speeding tickets within one month in college. I dove underneath an SUV on my way to meet my future mother-in-law, totaled my car, and was later sued for the same accident. And just 8 months ago I did the same thing all over again.

I have good reason for being a little jumpy.

So I was thankful for Brandon this Saturday night when we almost died. We were on our way home late from visiting with some friends and two particularly chubby baby boys. Because there is never a time in Hawaii when the roads are not completely and irritatingly clogged with cars, we were in thick downtown traffic. I was arguing with Brandon about the music, because we don’t get in the car without fighting for the controls. (Doesn’t the passenger have full reign over the music? Isn’t that the rule?)

Out of no where, Brandon slams hard on the brakes. Swerves to the left next painfully close to the center divider. Screeching. Pitching forward. Full body tension. Nails digging into plastic. Wide, round eyes. Hair in my face. Possibly a curse word or two. (Or possibly not because we are a pastor and his wife and never even think such things. Ahem.)

Apparently some big, burley truck decided he did not like how slow his lane was progressing. He didn’t bother looking into the heavy traffic to see if the road was clear, because let’s face it, he could roll over us like a Walmart speed bump. He swerved into the middle lane and the poor volvo in the middle lane swerved into us. We were going slow enough for heavy congestion, but fast enough to do some real damage.

But miracle of all miracles, not one car kissed. We all swerved to the left like a line dance. Brandon and I sat there shocked for a moment and then I thought 3 things:

1. Thank you Jesus for not taking me home just yet.
2. Had we gotten in the accident, we would not only fail to come up with the money to fix it, but we would also have no car during the time it took to fix in the shop. (This is a one car family.) No car means no work transportation. So thank you Jesus again for protecting our finances during tax season.
3. Thank you Jesus that Brandon was driving.

Because for all Brandon’s wild driving antics, he is excellent in high pressure situations. He is relaxed, quick-thinking, able-minded. And he has a lot of practice weaving and swerving.